Release to the Wild
by Gumi Reloaded
Summary: Okita Souji wakes up in a In-Patient Rehabilitation facility with no memory of who he is, where he came from and what he's doing in such a dump. A phone call to a grumpy wolf (who may or may not have a regrettably located Tinkerbell tattoo) sets the stage for a prison break complete with crayons, oranges and a therapist who's three seconds shy of killing his patient.
1. Chapter 1

**Release into the Wild**

**A GUMI RELOADED STORY**

**Written by leganronin (Okita) and MightyMightyMunson (Saitoh and Yorimoto) **

**We love our readers! Please love us back and leave a REVIEW! **

**Okita**

"Who approved this?! Kinoshita thrust the clipboard into the nurse's chest. "There is no way that man is ready to leave! I – We are not done with him." He then coughed, and tried to compose himself, "There is something seriously wrong with that man."

The nurse, a big burly man, looked down at the clipboard, "Apparently it was an order from up top. Very up top."

"This is insane. We've never released anyone before. These people are serious addicts and unfit for society."

"Well, it's beyond us now. He's out processing right now." The nurse then whispered, "Apparently he's going to be fully set up. They're going to have to help him find a job and all, but he'll have somewhere to live."

Kinoshita gritted his teeth, "What makes him so special? He doesn't deserve that." He narrowed his eyes and pushed his glasses up, "This just goes to show that NO ONE reads the reports I write. If they had they would know what a deeply troubled man he is."

"Kinoshita-san!"

Kinoshita twitched at the singsong voice, and he turned to watch the very man he had been talking about shuffle towards him in slippers too small.

Okita was grinning, "I didn't know you cared!"

Kinoshita ground his teeth together and practically hissed, "I care about all my patients, and the good of society."

Okita laughed.

The nurse decided it was a good time to intervene, before Kinoshita attacked the poor man. He personally had nothing against Okita. He was one of the more tame patients at the center, and that was saying a lot because the man liked to cause trouble. He still remembered the time when Kinoshita had walked into main room to find Okita in a lab coat, painted on glasses, legs crossed displaying rather mismatched slippers, sketchbook and crayon at the ready asking the patients, "And how does that make you feel?"

Ah, yes. He for one was going to miss Okita's crazy antics. "Okita-san do you have someone that can pick you up? I could always call you a taxi."

They both ignored Kinoshita's outburst, "Who is Okita?! His name is Yamada!"

Okita nodded, "I think I do know someone."

This bit of information interested the nurse, who had been under the impression that Okita had no one. He had after all been at the center for several months without a single visitor. Though, it must be hard when you don't know who you are. So, who did he remember?

Kinoshita's bewilderment was less kind. "Who? A demon?" he snarled.

Okita blinked, and then laughed heartily, "You know, I don't think anyone has ever called him a demon." Then taking a moment to think added, "But, don't take my word for it. My memory isn't all there."

The nurse couldn't help but laugh, at least the man could joke about his condition, "That's great. If you come this way, I can help you make that call."

"Just one moment," Okita turned to Kinoshita, and handed him a folder. "I don't want you to miss me too much, so I am giving you this."

Kinoshita stared dumbly down at the folder before curiosity got the better of him and he opened the folder.

Okita stuck his hands in his pockets and watched as realization dawned on Kinoshita and finally as rage took over him. Who knew the man could turn purple? Okita almost, almost being the key word, felt bad for him.

"These – this – how dare you!" Kinoshita glared at Okita, before taking the drawings of the sunfish and dung beetle and tearing them into pieces. He let the pieces fall to the ground, "You'll never make it out there." He then stormed away to his office.

The nurse blinked. He had never seen anyone get under Kinoshita's skin like that. "What did you give him?"

Okita turned to the nurse and pouted, "My masterpieces. He told me to draw out my frustrations, but it looks like he didn't approve."

The nurse laughed as Okita stared down at the pieces of his "masterpieces", "I am not sure I believe you."

Okita smiled, "Ah, Yamamoto-san I can't fool you." Then clapping his hands together, "Phone?"

**Yorimoto**

Today was going to be a beautiful day, because he was at work and work was where wonderful things happened. Who cared that the murky air pollution was reaching truly toxic levels and that his overbearing mother was still insisting that he accompany her to yet another philanthropic function despite his protests that as a New Meiji officer (secretaries were kind of like officers, right? Armed with fountain pens?) he had very important work to attend to.

Speaking of important...

Oh, rapture! Oh. joy! The warm, happy ball of sunshine in his professional life had just arrived.

Yorimoto scrambled up and stood at attention, saluted smartly, nearly knocking his Manly Man Muscle © protein shake to the floor. "Good Morning, Saitoh-sama! Isn't it a lovely day! I can see you are up and at it, bright eyed and bushy tailed."

Well, perhaps bushy tailed wasn't the best word to describe the tall officer, who consistently wore an expression that lent others to believe that he had murder on his mind. "You'll notice that your Japanese Peace Lilly has been watered. I took some initiative and added a bit of plant fertilizer to the mix. (Gads, he was getting wild and reckless!)" This bit of proactive thinking didn't quite had the effect Yorimoto had been hoping for, but he was relentlessly positive and had made pleasing his superior officer his singular, obsessive goal in life.

"You messages are also on your desk, alphabetized and time stamped." Yorimoto hurried out from behind his desk and tried to keep up with his boss who, once again, was not being very communicative this morning. "Uramura-san has called six times, you have forty-seven messages from representatives from the media and your sister, such a sweet lady, is on line 4."

Another secretary, Watanabe's new assistant, turned the corner, took one look at Saitoh and whirled around, beating a hasty retreat back to his desk, clutching his paperwork, which Yorimoto noted with disdain lacked proper color coding, like his life depended on it.

(That man would never be worthy of working for Saitoh-sama - very few are.)

Confident that he was one of the fortunate chosen, Yorimoto continued to follow his boss towards his new private office, one that was more resplendent that his previous office had been, which was only fitting.

"Forensics has emailed you some final reports and you have calendar invites requiring a response for six attorneys, one DA and a member of the fireman's charity association. They're wondering if you'd be interested in donating for the annual ball and gala?"

Muttering something that was decidedly NOT HR friendly, Saitoh-sama declined the philanthropic offer and got to his office door. He paused when he saw that it was not locked, as was his custom.

"Who's in my office?"

"Watanabe-san, she says it's important."

Yorimoto scurried towards the office, ready to finish his life of all the things that needed working on, only to have the door close, very suddenly and very hard right in his face.

"I put coffee on." Yorimoto called through the door, hoping against hope that this time he'd be invited to join in for the Major's morning ritual.

Silence.

Oh, well.

RING

RING

RING.

Yorimoto scurried back to his deck and pressed the machine that sent calls directly to his headset.

"Good morning and thank you for the calling the New Meiji police department. You have reached the office of Major Saitoh Hajime. This is Senior Secretary Yorimoto speaking, how may I assist you?"

**Okita**

Okita breathed in, trying to take control of his emotions. So much had come to light in such a short amount of time. Dr. Sinister had dropped plenty of hints, but nothing concrete. Still, he had provided Okita with plenty to think about.

Then there was, Saitou Hajime. The man was the only real memory and lead he had right now, and even that was spotty. Okita was sure he knew the man, but that was far as his memory took him. He had fragments of memory here and there, but that wasn't a guarantee of anything.

To top it all off this revelation only brought more questions, why hadn't Saitou tried to find him? Or had he? Would he welcome Okita back? Would he even want to talk to him?

And even more importantly, did he even have a right to involve Saitou in whatever he was caught up in?

Okita, he told himself sternly, breathe and take this one step at a time. You can't do this alone, and right now your brother is all you got. Yes, he knew Saitou was his brother, of that he had no doubt.

He was so busy trying to control his nerves and thoughts that he almost didn't realize that someone had answered the phone.

Okita blinked, Yorimoto? Idiot! Of course you wouldn't get straight to Saitou he was the big cheese now.

Okita, with some quick thinking pitched his voice high, "Ah good morning! This is HR, may I speak to the Major? I need to confirm some very important employee reviews before they can be processed."

Thank goodness for Shiori and her rantings about HR.

Then whispering as though he were sharing something very secret, "Did you say your name was Yorimoto? You should see the review he wrote for you!"

**Yorimoto**

Human Resources!

Now, if there was a department that Yorimoto could identfy with at the spirtual level (other than the Boddhisatvas of the Accounting Department and their spreadsheets that truly sang to his manly warrior spirit) it was Human Resources. Was there ever a department so deeply needed and yet so easily cast aside as HR until a time of crisis, when they, clad in matching office suits, armed with paperwork in triplicates, indemnity waivers and write up sheets saved the day and proved themselves heroes to the core? While not as fortunate to be called to serve in his capacity of Senior Secretary of Major Saitoh Hajime, they were, brothers and sisters in arms, to be sure.

Still, the Major was busy right now and even his fellow bureaucratic colleagues had to bend to the reality at hand.

"Good Morning, HR-San, unfortunately the Major is currently in a meeting. As such, you may 1.) Leave a message that is statistically unlikely to be responded to until the matter is dire. 2.) Send an email, also a missive that is statistically unlikely to be responded to unless death was on the line or 3.) You may call back again later, in which case, options 1.) and 2.) will be cheerfully presented again for you."

Yorimoto looked around the office, feeling like a bad-ass...err...bad-butt. (Have to be HR friendly you know, especially when on the phone with them). While he may not have the experience in shooting, kicking, or being able to make someone wet their pants with a glare, when it came to leveraging the almighty power of the message pad and phone menu, he was a GOD among executive assistants.

_I need to confirm some very important employee reviews before they can be processed._

"Employee reviews you say? Strange, those aren't due for another four and a half months." Yorimoto frowned, worried that his calendar was, heaven forbid, not up to date.

_Did you say your name was Yorimoto? _

"Yes, I am Senior Secretary Yorimoto." Remanding them about the senior part was very important.

_You should see the review he wrote for you!_

"Saitoh-sama wrote a review about me? For me?"

From his experience, the review process with his beloved commanding boss was a very terse discussion of to what degree an individual was a moron. (A review...) Perhaps it had been his valiant defense to keeping the major's paperwork free from the day's earlier defilement that had warranted such a boon. Feeling furtive, hope springing brightly in his anal-retentive heart he nodded, sending his headset bouncing.

"Let me see if I can put you in, Miss," Yorimoto pursed his lips thinking about protocol. He had protocol for everything, even situations that never called for protocol and process guides in the first place.

"HR-san, do you have a password or code that you can provide to me?" This protocol that Yorimoto had developed after watching a historical film called "The Spy Who Loved me" about a rather rakish British Secret Agent, had been used now for months, a protocol that the Major had actually seemed pleased with. If there was a issue that the man deemed to warrant an interruption worthy of someone's personal coffee time, there was a pass-code or pass-phrase used that he would share ahead of time to secure the caller or visitor nearly immediate access.

This week's was "Go die in a hole."

**Okita**

Password or passphrase? The corner of Okita's lips twitched, damn that man. Of course it wouldn't be easy.

Okita wracked his brain and limited memory for anything that could help him. Then his eyes twinkled with mischief as he thought of it. He just hoped it worked. For now though, all he could do was earn this Yorimoto's trust, and sympathy.

"Ah, the passphrase!" Okita let out a theatrical groan, and slapped his hand on the table loud enough for Yorimoto to hear. "He told me yesterday, but I forgot it! I tried to catch him when he was on his way to the press conference, but he told me to call today."

Then in a truly pathetic voice he began to ramble not giving Yorimoto a chance to say anything, "I knew I should have written it down! Thankfully employee review is still a little over 4 months away, but this has more to do with Saitou-san's promotion and appropriate cash rewards for certain not so idiotic employees. It's very time sensitive stuff, and with the press conference yesterday he just didn't have time."

"I didn't want to risk him finding out. You know how he is about confidentiality, and I would hate to upset him!"

"I swear he told me to call today, do you think I could get through with another phrase? Something only he and I know?"

**Yorimoto**

Oh, what a pickle this was! A conundrum for the ages of office administrators to be sure!

Yorimoto was getting nervous and, per usual, was finding great comfort in stroking his red, metal, streamline stapler. It was antique, handed down from generations before. It was his and his alone. Not even his mother was allowed to handle it and that was saying something.

He understood time sensitive deadlines. He understood cash rewards even better. But, most of all Yorimoto understood his duty to Saitoh-sama and that had to be paramount. He'd willing let his mother's passel of obese pugs lick him into oblivion before he betrayed confidence of the manliest of manly managers.

(Still, this is the HR Department. Why would they be anything but sincere?) The thought of any sort of interdepartmental politics was beyond the pale in Yorimoto's mind.

The speed in which he stroked his stapler grew more rapid.

Watanabe's new administrative assistance was staring. So was pretty much everyone else on the floor.

"This is highly irregular." Still there was precedent for it. After all, hadn't Watanabe come into this office directly, without an officially sanctioned key?

"Still, I suppose that if you truly do have a unique and very confidential phrase that ONLY you and he are privy to, don't suppose there's any harm in it." Yorimoto solemnly vowed that if anything went amiss due to this bending of the pass-code protocol, that he would promptly commit seppuku with his letter opener rather than face a life of regret and shame.

The new administrative assistant was now making half smothered giggle snort sounds and trying to bury his head in his sadly lacking color coded files. His lack of professionalism wasn't helping the tense situation.

"I will need your name ma'am and the phrase in question. For verification purposes of course."

**Okita**

AH! My good man Yorimoto! Okita grinned triumphantly through the nerves and excitement. He was finally getting somewhere! He just hoped Saitou remembered, but even more importantly . . . he hoped Saitou wanted to talk to him.

Still in his high voice Okita allowed relief to color his tone, "THANK YOU! I can see why Saitou-san said what he said about you."

He was forced to pause as he began to cough. Calm down Okita, he told himself. He breathed and then continued with his act, "Oh I am sorry about that! Please tell him Okita is calling, and my passphrase is . . .

"Do you still have Tinkerbell tattooed on your ass?"

His chest became tight and his head began to spin, but he tried to ignore it by putting his hand to head hoping the act would stop the rush of memories. Now was not the time . . .

_Okita laughed at the man groaning as he lay face down on the cot, "Careful sunshine. I wouldn't move too fast, or roll over. You'll squash Tinkerbell." _

With his hand still on his head Okita smiled at the memory. Ah, military men were they? Or had been, they had been much younger in the memory.


	2. Chapter 2

**Release into the Wild – CHAPTER 2**

**A GUMI RELOADED STORY**

**Written by leganronin (Okita) and MightyMightyMunson (Saitoh and Yorimoto) **

**We love our readers! Please love us back and leave a review! **

**Saitoh Hajime**

MEANWHILE IN SAITOH'S OFFICE

"Damn, Hajime…you've got a real winner there." Watanabe tried to snicker, but her synth box could only make a sound like two rusty metal gears grinding.

Saitoh glanced back at the woman while he was pouring himself and her a large cup of coffee, his expression sour enough to curdle milk.

"You know damn well that I had nothing to do with that idiot being assigned to my office." Administrative assistants were randomly selected by a computer database that was managed by HR. Up until the arrival of Yorimoto, Saitoh had considered the process to be fair and equitable. Clearly, his sentiments regarding the process had changed somewhat.

(I put coffee on….)

Saitoh swore when he heard his secretary bonk his head on the closed door. Beyond irked, he looked up at the ceiling, wondering how many years he'd get in the clinker for manslaughter. (No jury would convict me ...) If the secretary hadn't proven to be a most methodical and unquestionably obedient administrator he'd ever dealt with, Yorimoto's ground up remains would be fertilizer for a rather bedraggled peace lily on his filing cabinet.

"Oh, don't give me that. I know you pulled strings to get him on the team. He's your type."

Saitoh, two cups of coffee in hand, menacingly strode over to where the short, smart ass of a woman was leaning against one of the ridiculously ornate chairs that he'd inherited from his predecessor.

"Do you want me to pour hot coffee on your goddamned head, Karen?" he growled, "Because that's what's about to happen if you don't cease and desist this inane prattle."

"Pshaw," Watanabe took the cup of coffee. "You don't scare me, Major – you're all bark and very little bite." This of course was patently false, but if she didn't give the boy hell, who would? Okita, after all, was gone.

Saitoh barked out a harsh laugh when Watanabe sat herself down in the too big chair and found to her immense irritation and his immense enjoyment that her feet didn't reach the floor. Karma was a bitch. That's why they got along so well. "Need a step stool there, Captain?"

While drinking was difficult for Karen, she took a tentative sip, relishing the taste. The bomb that had taken so much from her life had not made a dent in her deep and abiding appreciation for a cup of joe. "If you're going to give me shit, I'll just have to take my new intel on a certain case you've been assigned and share it with someone else. Perhaps Yorimoto?"

In an instant all brevity vanished.

"What did you find?"

Watanabe took another small sip of coffee and then set it down. "It's regarding the murdered woman, Takani."

Saitoh nodded curtly. "Her body was found?" The idea that the woman in the video footage could still be alive after sustaining such a horrendous blast to the chest at point plank range was nearly as stupid as thinking he'd pulled strings to get saddled with such a patently ridiculous human being in any sort of professional capacity.

"No, but her bank account was hacked into," Karen said, motioning towards his police issued tablet. "Early this morning. Per normal operating procedures the police always put out data sniffers out on any suspects or victims to check for follow up leads or actions. All the information is in my report."

"Were funds accessed?" Saitoh sat down at desk, activated the tablet and began to peruse the first few pages of the report, his brow furrowing as he made headway.

"Accessed yes. Transferred, no." Watanabe replied honestly, "and don't ask me who cracked the account. We can't trace it."

Saitoh's head shot up. "Explain." Watanabe was one of the best computer crackers in the country and up until now, she'd never reported a data breach to be un-trackable. "This report says that the account was with the National Bank of Japan." Hundreds of years old, and so heavily monitored that anything other being able to access a singular data access portal, was strictly prohibited. The bank was the most highly secured financial institution in the country.

"I can't prove it, but I think whoever cracked the system went through the back-end, accessing the older mainframe systems. Navigating through such old code would be a nightmare, but I can't think of any other way that someone could pull this off, not without triggering every damn monitoring alarm that the bank has."

"Not to mention all the government safety protocols." Saitoh drained his cup of coffee, not even caring that it was too hot. "Shit almighty." It wasn't enough that the entire police force had been put in the most damning light possible by Umagoe's utter lack of strategy, sense and honor, jeopardizing what little trust remained between the public at large and the institutions created to support and protect them. Now the financial institution that all banks in the country were connected to had potentially been compromised.

"I'll keep doing what I can to find any sort of data traces, but as of this morning, we're at square one."

"I wonder why the funds weren't transferred." He frowned and looked out the window, contemplatively, and lit a cigarette.

BEEP

BEEP

BEEP

His phone line began to chime.

Again.

Irritated, Saitoh shot a dirty glance at the line. It was coming directly from Yorimoto. (He knows better than to try and direct transfer to my office unless there is a damn good reason) And since he knew his boys and Tokio were safe, he couldn't think of a single item that would warrant such an intrusion.

BEEP

BEEP

BEEP

Karen watched, her eyes (well the real one that remained) banked with amusement as her Saitoh punched the comm button with enough force to make the set squawk in electronic protest.

"What?" There was a pause. "Yes, you moron, of course I'm busy."

More silence. Saitoh's left eyebrow twitched.

Karen sat back in her chair and waited. She knew what an eyebrow twitch meant. (Yorimoto is going to get his spindly little ass handled to him)

"What do you mean she's missing the standard pass-code? I don't care if she's with HR." Saitoh growled. "What part of pass-code can you possibly not comprehend? Goddammit, you came up with this system!"

And then something changed. Something very unexpected.

Saitoh became very quiet. Dead silent in fact.

"She said that?" The tall officer's face paled slightly and stood up, securing the headset to his ear.

This was not good.

Karen stood up, not wanting to intrude on what clearly was a serious situation, only to sit right back down when Saitoh motioned for her to stay put. (What is it?) Her superior officer had very few physical tells, but all of them were going off.

"Yes, put the call through." Saitoh's voice was no longer acidic as he reached down and grabbed another cigarette and lit it up.

**Okita**

Okita was in danger of losing himself in his thoughts as he waited for the call to be put through. He just had more questions than answers. Had he really been gone a year? What had happened in that year?

It annoyed him that he couldn't remember, but what he did remember still haunted him.

_"You need to wake up." _

_Okita opened his eyes and turned stiffly towards the speaker. For some reason, his whole body felt heavy and his nosed itched horribly. _

_The other man smiled at Okita, his smile warm and full of respect. "You can't die here." _

_"What are you doing here?" Okita smiled back, his smile genuine. He ignored the man's statement. It had been a very long time since he had seen the man after all. He looked at the man that had been like a brother, his eyes going instinctively to the other man's neck. _

_The other man chuckled, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, "You did a fine job."_

_At that Okita's smile faltered, "It was all I could do." He tried to look around, but found that everything seemed out of focus and glaringly white. "I am dying?" _

_The man sent Okita a sympathizing look, "You're not in good shape."_

_Okita nodded, he blinked and suddenly they were sitting on tatami mats with tea before them. He laughed, it all seemed familiar but he couldn't quite place why, he also didn't understand why it felt so out of place. Then without thinking he asked, " . . . So, are you here for me?" _

_The man shook his head, "It's not your time yet. Not in this lifetime my friend." Then with a warm smile he repeated, "Wake up." _

_Everything went dark. _

_The next time Okita woke up, a woman reached out and grabbed his hand. Gods, how he had missed her. Again he tried to move, but nothing. This time, he couldn't even speak. _

_The woman, however, did not seem bothered. She squeezed his hand trying to reassure him. Okita wished she would scratch his nose. She smiled brilliantly, and his heart twisted painfully, "Soji ..." Her hand was warm. "Come with me? You've fought so hard. It's okay, you can rest now." _

_Okita wanted to grab her, hold her, and tell her how much he missed her. Her warmth was overwhelming, and he was tempted to give in. Instead, cold darkness fell over him again._

_Damn it! His nose itched, why couldn't he scratch it?! He tried calling out, but there was something in the way. He started to panic. The beating of his heart was unbearably loud. _

_"Breathe!" _

_Okita began gasping. The two men standing by Okita, both horribly familiar and both in strikingly blue coats with white triangles along the edges began to laugh._

_"Look at you! This is not how I wanted to see you old friend." The man, while his expression looked stern, was all warmth. _

_The other man, the handsome man, snorted, "What are you doing here? You're wasting your life."_

_Okita grinned; his voice came out raspy and choked, "At least I have a life."_

_The handsome man crossed his arms, and smirked, "That's right." Before he could say anything more, he was interrupted. _

_The stern man nodded, "It's not your time yet. Go live your life."_

_"So WAKE UP!" The handsome man barked out. "And tell that asshole to pull his shit together!" _

Okita remembered waking up with a jolt, his nose still driving him crazy. He had been surprised to realize it had all been a dream, he had been unconscious and tied down to the bed. Even in his dreams he could not remember their names, and the details were fuzzy.

Okita did remember apologizing to the woman, as he regained consciousness.

An icy chill ran down Okita's back at the memory. It was one he replayed over and over again, trying desperately to remember each face, feeling, and word. Each time it got harder to remember the details.

There were just so many dreams, most unpleasant, involving screams and cold damp rooms with no escape. Dreams or memories, he didn't know which.

Stop that! He scolded himself, and quickly told himself to count his blessings and focus on what he knew and what he could do. At least that was the one good piece of advice Kinoshita had given him.

He winked as he saw Shiori peek around the corner and send him a worried look. You won't be able to save her, his mind taunted. He waved cheerily at her, silently telling her he was okay. At the same time reassuring himself, I'll do my best.

Luckily he had pulled himself out of his dark thoughts just in time as Yorimoto informed him that he was going to be patched through.

Okita's pulse raced in excitement and nerves, as he waited those few seconds. He wished he could have been there to see Yorimoto relaying the passphase to Saitou. If his memory wasn't playing tricks on him it would have been quite a sight.

And for the first time in a long time, Okita smiled a true smile, as the call went through, "Hey Tink, did you miss me?"

**Saitoh Hajime**

LATE ONE EVENING IN A TATTOO PARLOR…THE REST IS A BLUR

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Saitoh's rather bloodshot eyes were narrow slits as he glared up the thin man with a tattoo needle poised above his skin. "Did I stutter?"

The tattooist, who was no stranger to soldiers coming in for a tattoo in various states of intoxication, but still had the grace to double check before inking them, looked down at the clearly inebriated, yet still intimidating grump of a man lying prone on the tattoo bed. "No, but you clearly…"

"What?" Saitoh blinked, trying to make the two tattooists back into a single human being. "What am I, exactly?" There was no mistaking the dare or the desire to get in a fight in the soldier's tone.

"Determined." The tattooist gave up and went to work. "Clearly, you are determined to go through with this. Suit yourself." Drunks came in three varieties as far as he was concerned, there were those who got all weepy and maudlin, those who got mean and were always on the lookout for a fight, whether verbal or physical, the asshole on his table being a prime example of this sub-category of drunk. Then there were the ones that became immediate best friends with everything, man and animal, rocks and hills included when they got booze into their system.

As he began putting ink to skin, the tattooist glanced over at the man's friend, who currently was leading the rest of the parlor patrons in a rather rousing rendition of a popular wartime song. He'd heard of opposites attracting but this was ridiculous.

LATER THAT MORNING

Wondering how in the hell it was possible to keep puking when there was obviously nothing left to come up, Saitoh raised his aching head from the porcelain god he's spent the last couple of hours worshiping. Temples throbbing, the light in the barrack bathroom was enough to make him consider the merits of drowning via toilet water, but he was scheduled for a night shift and was determined not to miss it.

Duty came before hangovers.

He threw up again for good measure, the dry heave making his already aching body very unhappy.

Vagely, he realized that Okita was standing by him. The fact that the man was on his feet and not barfing his guts out seemed very unfair.

"What?"

Okita smiled brightly. "I had my doubts, but you know…it really does suit you."

"What?" This was definitely a one syllable morning.

"Your tattoo." More smiling ensured. "Who would have thought that a Tinkerbell tattoo on your ass would be so becoming?"

Saitoh blinked again, another wave of nausea rolling over him. "What?"

"Your ass. Tattoo. TINKERBELL." Okita made a vague hand gesture that might have represented a pixie with wings. "It's very nice. The bright green glitter trail was a very nice touch!"

"I didn't." Horrified, Saitoh staggered to his feet, trying to ignore the urge to puke again.

"Oh, you most certainly did," Okita laughed. "Tink." The fact that the shorter man had been able to dodge when Saitoh tried to clobber him only made it worse.

Saitoh blinked and without thinking rubbed his shoulder, where a regrettable, but blessedly well drawn wolf tattoo was located. Of course, the impish bastard of a human being had been teasing and his posterior was, thankfully, free from adornment. Still, the fact that he'd spent most of that hung-over morning frantically trying to confirm whether or not his ass was grass without asking a fair and balanced neutral party to confirm still rankled.

"_Hi Tink, did you miss me?" _

Other than Saitoh, there was only one other man on the planet who knew about that night's misadventure and as sure as hell only one person stupid enough to call him Tink.

(Gods. It's him. ) Saitoh glanced at Karen who was watching him like a one eyed hawk. (She's going to lose her shit when she finds out who's on the line...) He wasn't the only one who had mourned Okita's loss.

Where to begin...

"Brat." Saitoh said, shortly. "Where the hell have you been?"

**Okita**

"In hell, obviously." Okita said, and then he laughed. His laugh quickly became a cough though. When the cough had subsided he smiled, grateful to know what he did. It was a start and he could focus on that. That's all he could do was focus on what was in front of him. Baby steps.

And, was it his imagination or did Saitou's greeting lack bite? Okita blew air out his nose. Aww, the asshole missed him.

He knew he could only buy so much time before he eventually got to the point, but he didn't really know how to go about it. How did you tell your friend you just learned your name? That you had no idea about anything before six months ago?

So, he sighed. "I wish I could tell you where I've been. . ." And because he didn't want to go there just yet he said, "But you! You've been busy. That's quite a promotion there Major."

**Saitoh Hajime**

_In hell, obviously._

The major scowled when the man on the line began to cough. A vague memory of Okita smiling appeared, his all too pale mouth specked with blood and sputum. Saitoh dismissed it immediately. His concern grew, however, as the coughing continued. He sat back down at his desk.

"_I wish I could tell you where I've been..."_

Saitoh quickly motioned for Watanabe to come over to where he was sitting. She did so immediately and without so much as a raised eyebrow. He then moved his hand over to a different button on his comm console, one that would initiate an immediate call trace.

Watanabe nodded, understanding the situation. In a second her tablet was activated and the older woman was opening the line trace activation terminal so that she would monitor the call and hopefully speed up the process, while plugging into her tablet with an ear jack so she could listen in on the conversation.

Saitoh nodded curtly and then put a finger up to his mouth, signaling that she remain absolutely silent. He wasn't the only man that she'd "adopted" during the course of her life. While he was confident in her professionalism, he could not risk an outburst, especially one that came from the heart. She acknowledged. The call transfer was initiated, a yellow blinking light appeared on this comm panel.

"_But you! You've been busy. That's quite a promotion there Major."_

"What do you expect when you go wandering off to God knows where?" Saitoh groused. Either Okita was in a position where he could not safely reveal his history or he was teasing again, in which case, when Saitoh found out where the infuriating brat was, he'd knock him into next week.

"As for the promotion." He snorted, cigarette smoke pluming from his narrow nostrils like mist from a dragon's cave. "I can assure you it is an unwanted, irritating pain in the ass."

Saitoh looked at Karen. Now aware of who was on the line, her expression was caught somewhere between being shocked, relieved and worried. At the moment, he was identifying strongly with the latter emotion. She glanced at her tablet and then motioned for him to continue by moving her finger in a circle, then making the symbol for "4". (Four seconds to trace completion)

"Since you're hellbent on playing coy, I suppose it wouldn't do any good for me to ask you where you are?"

4...3...2...1


	3. Chapter 3

**Release into the Wild – CHAPTER 3**

**A GUMI RELOADED STORY**

**Written by leganronin (Okita) and MightyMightyMunson (Saitoh and Yorimoto) **

**We love our readers! Please love us back and review! **

4…3…2…1

**Okita **

Okita chuckled. Saitou was on his guard. He had clearly heard someone in the office with Saitou. It was the sound of someone sliding off a chair, and moving closer, and if he wasn't mistaken it wasn't normal footfalls. Though there was no way he should have been able to pick that up. Right?

Of course, he supposed it was a natural response to receiving a call from someone who had been missing for a year. Saitou being Saitou was not one to be overcome by an onslaught of sentimentality.

What are you thinking? Okita's amusement fled for a second though as he thought about how he was going to explain his absence. Without thinking he rubbed his arms.

Okita shook his head. He'd just have to be honest, that he didn't know why he was in a center for addicts.

"_Since you're hellbent on playing coy, I suppose it wouldn't do any good for me to ask you where you are?" _

"Now that I can do!" Okita said cheerfully, and rattled off the address from the paperwork the nurse had given him. His smile was a little bittersweet as he said, "It's one of the few things I know."

Are you reading in between the lines Hajime?

"Actually Tink, this lost boy needs a ride." Images flashed in quick succession through his mind's eye. Images that had been triggered before, Disney was one of the few things the center allowed their patients to watch, but had lacked context. He smiled fondly as he remembered how Saitou scowled whenever Okita brought over a movie to show the boy. She always laughed at us . . .

"Could you get off your fairy ass and pick me up?"

**Saitoh Hajime**

4…3…2…1

Karen gave Saitoh the thumbs up sign.

TRACE SUCCESSFUL. STAND BY FOR DETAILS AND LOCATION COORDINATES.

He nodded, then his eyes became dangerous slits when he heard what Okita had to say next.

_Now that I can do!_ Quickly, Saitoh wrote down the address than his former partner rattled off. He frowned at the name of the….rehabilitation facility? _It's one of the few things I know._

(What in the bloody hell…) This didn't make sense. None of it. His concern at the situation increased exponentially.

His tablet vibrated, signaling a notification from Watanabe.

SECURE AND ENCRYPTED

START MSG: CAPT KWATANABE to MAJOR HSAITOH;

TRACE INITIATED 0830. TRACE COMPLETED 0832. LINE +81 1387 4628 451. LINE DESIGNATION: PUBLIC, COMMERCIAL, NON-SECURE. LOCATION IDENTIFIED: FURISATO REHABILITION CENTER, IN-PATIENT FACILITY. 4 CHOME-16 SHINMEI, HINO, NEW MEIJI, 191-0016, JAPAN

STANDBY FOR FURTHER ORDERS.

Dammit.

The addresses matched.

For a moment, Saitoh wasn't sure what was a sharper blow to the gut, the fact that Okita's memory had been tampered with or the location where he was calling from.

Watanabe looked over at him, her expression mirroring his own.

Absent mindedly, his attention focused on the caller rather than the half-consumed cigarette in his right hand, Saitoh tapped, sending red-orange ashes onto his desk.

"_Actually Tink, this lost boy needs a ride. Could you get off your fairy ass and pick me up?" _

"I'm not your fucking taxi service, you insufferable menace." Since glaring didn't work over the phone, Saitoh waited for a moment before continuing. "You just want me to come get you or would you prefer the damn welcome wagon?" In light of Okita's apparent memory loss, Saitoh wondered if the man would remember that this was a secure way to ask on a non-secure line if backup was needed.

Author's note: the address of Okita's "rehabilitation facility" is in fact the address of the Shinsengumi Furusato Historical Museum.

**Okita**

Okita narrowed his eyes as he thought, welcome wagon? That sounded like something he should know. It certainly sounded familiar, but he didn't know why. "Hmm," he said. Letting Saitou know he was thinking.

He could feel those words tugging at his memory, but he just couldn't remember. All he could do was take it at face value, and did he want Saitou to bring more people?

He looked around the room, and could hear a patient begin to cause trouble somewhere in the building. And, he knew that he did not want anyone to see him like this much less see the place. He was probably dragging his friend into a whole lot of trouble as it was.

"Just bring your cheery self." He laughed, "Still the happy go lucky man I remember." He laughed again at his own stupid joke. "How you became major is beyond me."

"In case you forgot what I look like, I'll be the good looking guy." He grinned and winked. Even with his filled in mustache and underfed frame there was no denying he was (or had been) handsome. The nurse walking by blushed when he smiled her way, momentarily forgetting that he was an addict.

"If you need help picturing that just look in the mirror and imagine someone one thousand times better looking." He threw back his head and laughed. The nurse that had walked by earlier blinked, she had never seen him like this.

Then suddenly becoming deathly serious he said, "But, I do need you to bring me something."

Even his eyes glowed and it was enough to send a chill up the nurse's spine. In that moment, she remembered exactly how dangerous addicts could be even the handsome ones.

"Bring me a good burger. Bring me the best soba you can find. The food here is complete garbage."

**Saitoh Hajime**

Hmmm

While the time for wondering if Okita was trying to pull his leg was thankfully past, Saitoh wasn't sure if the delayed response was because the man wasn't able to remember the pass phrase, one that he'd created, or if he wasn't at liberty to say whether or not backup was necessary. Either way, Saitoh intended to go armed and have a backup team at the ready if the situation called for it.

_If you need help picturing that just look in the mirror and imagine someone one thousand times better looking._ Saitoh rolled his eyes, exasperated. Whatever the hell had happened with his friend, he was at least consistently annoying.

In the army, Okita developed a fearsome reputation for two things. First, he was an outstanding officer and one of the best hand-to-hand combat specialists in the service. Second, he was an incontrovertible and incorrigible flirt. The passage of time had not lessened his reputation in either regard.

Women had a habit of throwing themselves at Okita with reckless and often wanton abandon, as if he was some sort of irresistible bug zapper with a bright smile and easy laugh. As a young man with far less experience than the slightly older officer, this had driven him crazy. Forever the ill-tempered third wheel who always accompanied his friend (as back up of course) on off-duty missions with the fairer sex, his chilly demeanor tended to send women scrambling away. If Okita was a bug zapper, he was repellent.

"Moron. You've always let your stomach lead you rather than use what little brain matter exists between your ears." Saitoh snorted when Okita demanded a good burger and soba. At least the man, for all his many deficiencies, had good taste in food. "Clearly nothing has changed in that regard."

**Okita**

Okita laughed, "What is life without good food?" He then started to ramble about the food at the center, and how it wasn't even fit for the trash.

It was mid-ramble that he noticed Shiori peek her head in again. She was worried. She always worried too much he thought.

Still looking at Shiori, Okita said, "Eh, you know what I need? Just to hurry the fuck up."

And because Shiori was still watching him, Okita smiled. He smiled to cover the fear he suddenly felt. He knew Dr. Sinister could not be trusted, and the Dr. had definitely noticed Shiori.

Again, he heard the screams of agony. He blinked and focused.

Shiori, of course, noticed nothing of the internal struggle. She simply smiled back assured that Okita was ok, and motioned that her break would be starting soon.

He nodded back, understanding that she would want to ask him about everything that had happened since they had spoken earlier this morning. Okita, however, was not going to be able to share much with her.

Turning his attention back to the conversation at hand he said, "Oh, and Hajime . . . bring me some clothes."

He was certainly not going to leave the center in sweats, sandals, and robe. He had decency after all. It was bad enough he would have to face Saitou for the first time in a year in his current state.

Even though he knew that he would have to hang up the phone, and that he would be seeing his friend soon . . . he couldn't bring himself to hang up on the only link he had to who he had been and who he was. Okita was self-aware enough to admit that he was scared. Scared that he would wake up, and he would still be stuck here, and that no one would be waiting for him.

**Saitoh Hajime**

"Yare, Yare…" Saitoh drawled. "Keep your panties on, Princess. I'll find you something to eat and get you a change of clothes."

After Okita had disappeared and the police investigation had wound up with no leads as to where his partner had vanished to, Saitoh had gone to his friend's apartment one night and quietly packed up what belongings he thought the man would want if he ever showed up again and was, in fact, not dead somewhere.

Saitoh frowned at the memory. It wasn't a good one.

"I'm leaving now and should be there to pick you up," he glanced at his watch and calculated the time it would take to drive to his house, find some of Okita's clothing, run by Bakamatsu Burger (the soba would have to wait) and drive out to the treatment facility address which was on the outskirts of the New Meiji, near the western foothills. "No later than 10:35. If you need anything between now and then, call the same number and I'll have my secretary route the call directly to my mobile. I'll pick up immediately."

Damn right he would.

"Okita," Saitoh paused and his voice became quieter, less acerbic, "try not to do anything stupid between now and then."

It was something they'd said to each other for many years, usually as a parting jab as they parted ways.

There were many other things he wanted to say but standing around his office like an addle-pated, sentimental twit was going to accomplish nothing.

And with that Saitoh hung up the phone, inwardly wincing as the connection between them was severed.

He had to get moving. His friend needed him and he needed answers.

**Okita**

_"I told you not to do anything stupid!" Okita slammed open the door, his wet towel draped over his head._

_Saitou pulled on his sock before looking up at the man, glaring up at him for dripping water. "I wouldn't call getting engaged stupid." His glare intensified, letting Okita know that this matter was not up for discussion. _

_Okita rolled his eyes, and threw his wet towel at Saitou, hitting him in the face with a satisfying smack, "I am talking about the way you proposed!" _

_Saitou whipped the towel off his face and with more force then necessary threw it at Okita's feet, just a tad defensive about his lack of ... romance, "I don't see how this concerns you!" He snapped out. _

_"It's the principal of the matter." Okita shouted, slamming his hand against the doorframe, "You don't just," he threw his hands up in the air unable to find the words so he let his hands talk, "do that."_

_Saitou growled from annoyance or it could have been embarrassment. He wasn't even sure how Okita had found out, but the man had an annoying way of knowing everything. "It's done." He then turned to grab his belt. He grabbed it with so much force that the belt whipped around to slap his thigh. Saitou ground his teeth together to keep from shouting out in pain._

_Okita sighed at his friend's hopelessness, throwing a pillow from one of the cots at him. If only he had asked him for advice, but no. In typical Saitou fashion he had to do everything on his own. _

_The pillow hit Saitou on the back, and he whipped around sending the belt slashing through the air. "Oy! What the hell!"_

_Okita grinned, "Congratulations on getting engaged." He then scratched his ear, "Just hope I am invited." Acting as if he hadn't thrown a wet towel or pillow at the groom-to-be. _

_Saitou, at a loss by the man's change in attitude, stood there for a split second, his belt forgotten. He then growled, because he had a reputation to think of, "Feh. Not if I can help it."_

_It was Okita's turn to look dumbfounded, "What the hell man! After all the advice and wisdom I imparted on you. You wouldn't be engaged if it weren't for me!"_

_Saitou enjoying having the upper hand, raised a superior eyebrow, and then with the ease of man who had everything figured out he looped his belt through his pants, and said, "Hmpf, if I listened to you I wouldn't be engaged."_

_Okita leaned against the doorframe and looked thoughtful, his voice a little wistful, "Eh, you're just lucky." Then with a mischievous grin and laughter in his eyes he said, "Yaso-san obviously hasn't met many good men." _

_Saitou tensed for a moment, it was a split second, after all his experience with women was completely different than those of Okita's. Still . . . He placed his gun into its holster and while he was getting everything together he said, "No, she only had to meet one." _

_Okita blinked, and then threw his head back and laughed, "Well played." _

_Saitou quirked an eyebrow, and made to leave for his night shift, but Okita stopped him by calling his name, "Saitou." _

_Saitou stopped just as he was beside Okita, but did not bother looking at the shorter man. _

_Okita did not let that bother him and simply said, in all seriousness, "Don't do anything stupid between now and then." _

_Saitou turned his head to look at his friend knowing exactly what wasn't said. Don't die. But because they were who they were, and because they didn't need to waste words, he said, "Idiot." Then with a smirk and arrogance added, "I am not you." _

_Okita too smirked, and winked, "Damn right. I would have proposed in style." _

Okita smiled at the memory, not realizing he had tightened his grip on the phone, and that it had cracked. "Spoilsport." He said even though Saitou had already hung up. Okita breathed in and let himself feel the panic that spread through him once Saitou hung up.

"Yama- Okita-san?"

Okita turned to look at Shiori, grateful for her timely approach. It would give him something to do. "Shiori-San! Perfect timing! Will you help me? I need a hair cut." He reached up and scratched his beard, "And maybe a shave."

**Saitoh Hajime**

"He's alive," If she'd been able to modulate her voice, Watanabe's would have cracked with emotion. Her lost boy, he was alive. Unlike the prickly grump in whose office she sat, Okita had been so easy to care for and had been able, despite everything the man had gone through, to reciprocate feelings that were warm and kind. His friend on the other hand had been (and still was in so many ways) like a wolf, one paw snagged in a trap, always snarling, hackles raised, ready to bite at the slightest provocation.

(Little Merry Sunshine and The Prince of Darkness)

This is what she called the mismatched men, her boys. Okita had found it hilarious. Saitoh had thought otherwise. Both had come from the war in bad shape, the worst of the wounds being the type that no one could see. And being a mother and an officer, she'd done what she could do to help, to support and to, if needed, kick their scrawny asses back into shape.

(Speaking of kicking ass…)

She looked up at the tall man. His back was to her and his defenses were up. He was clearly upset, a mixture of anger, doubt and concern radiating off of him like waves. He'd been through so much in the past few days. Too much. As his surrogate mother, colleague and AA sponsor, Karen knew that this put him (and his family) at serious risk for a relapse. As if confirming her worries, the major took a deep drag of his cigarette, tossed it at the ash tray and lit right back up again, which was not typical for him.

Dammit.

(I need to reach out to Takagi.)

Watanabe had wanted to wait, to let things progress slowly and naturally between the attorney (Saitoh had the hots for an attorney! The end times were truly at hand!) and the curmudgeon she'd long since called her own, but there wasn't time. She also suspected, based on the complete and utter lack of updates from said curmudgeon regarding the pretty lawyer that perhaps said progress was going better than she could hope for.

Okita was in trouble. Saitoh was going to be in trouble unless he was very careful, and she couldn't manage both on her own, not with her own promotion, even if was to her former 3rd squad. She had her hands full and needed reinforcements. STAT. Takagi was clean - the Major wouldn't have let the woman set foot on his property if there were any doubts as to her integrity, so Karen would have to take a leap of faith and reach out.

"That fucking idiot," Saitoh snarled, furious. He was also deeply concerned for the well-being of his best friend, which only fueled his anger. "What's he done this time?" The man was a magnet for trouble. Okita was in trouble, the brief phone conversation had made that fact perfectly clear. He kept his back turned, not wanting Watanabe to see him this way. She was his subordinate, after all, and he had a responsibility to maintain order and set an example. Saitoh ignored the pithy voice in the back of his head that reminded him, rather sharply, that the woman was much more than that and he wasn't giving her the credit she deserved.

Saitoh turned and went to the door, wrenched it open and poked his head outside. "If that number calls back, I want you to immediately patch it through to my mobile," he said curtly.

"Of course, Saitoh-sama!" Yorimoto chirped. Saitoh hated chirping. "It would be a pleasure to patch her through." The secretary beamed at him. That young lady from Human Resources seemed very nice."

"What?" Saitoh was about suggest that his secretary check into a psych ward until he remembered Okita's discomforting ability to modulate his voice. It was an annoying talent, one that Okita had used more times than Saitoh could count, especially when he was up to no good (which was most of the time).

"The lovely woman from HR," Yorimoto prompted, "Oh, and Uramura-san is on line five. He very much wants to speak with you."

Uramura was the last man that Saitoh wanted to speak to. He was still pissed at the policeman turned bureaucrat for promoting him. That didn't stop him from going to the administrator's desk and pressing one of the many blinking lights on the phone. He had a duty to perform, even if he didn't like it.

"Saitoh here," he listened, brows furrowing. His boss had called him six times about this? "He's resigning then? Good riddance." He'd known that the zero-tolerance policy for active users and that the financial disclosure requirements that were now mandated for every member of the divisions he managed would make waves and result in resignations. That was the point. "Sir, I don't care who his uncle knows. The man's a rat." Saitoh envisioned the corrupt officer's neck being snapped neatly in a trap. "Yes, Sir." Saitoh drummed his fingers on Yorimoto's desk, impatiently. "No, Sir." Saitoh listened for a moment more then nodded. "Fine." He put the phone down with perhaps a little more force than was needed.

"I'm going to be out for a few hours on a matter of personal business and am not to be disturbed unless the situation is dire."

"The lawyers?" Yorimoto asked.

"Can speak with the DA," With one notable exception, Saitoh made it a point to never speak with attorneys unless he absolutely had to.

"And your sister? She's quite adamant that she speak with you." Yorimoto motioned towards the angry flashing button for line four. He liked Saitoh-sama's sister. She was a nice woman, even if her language and temper made the Major seem rather tame by comparison.

Saitoh hit the button, disconnecting the call. "She'll have to wait."

He turned and headed back to his office, then stopped, eyes narrowing.

(WHAT THE HELL?)

Yorimoto was staring at him.

Staring at his butt.

(Do you still have Tinkerbell tattooed on your ass?)

Saitoh inwardly cursed and made a mental note to find Okita, confirm that he was all right and then kill him. Slowly. Perhaps with a rusty spoon.

Yorimoto, who clearly had the self-preservation skills of a box of hair was still staring.

Saitoh turned back and then bent down menacingly, towering over his secretary. "If you ever do that again," his voice was a soft, sibilant hiss, "I'll staple your balls to your desk. Do I make myself clear?"

Yorimoto eyes went wide with terror. "Urk." Saitoh took that as confirmation and went back into his office.

Watanabe was up, her computer tucked beneath her arm. "You'll keep me posted." It was a statement rather than a question.

Saitoh nodded. "I'm heading over to the rehab facility now," he spat the words out as if they were a nasty taste in his mouth. The idea of Okita, a man who loathed and despised users and all that they stood for, being in a place like that was beyond improbable. It was impossible.

His nose twitched. The smell of cigarettes was strong.

"Hajime," Karen came up to him, her expression hard now. "You don't know all the details. Not yet." She ignored the glare he was giving her. "What you, of all people, should know by now, is that no one ever intends to become an addict. If Okita has stumbled, if he's fallen, it's your duty to help him up and support him, just like he did for you."

Watanabe's rebuke and warning cut through the haze of anger that was filling Saitoh's vision. It was a hard slap in the face, one that he realized he had coming.

"You know I will," he managed, nose twitching again.

"I know," Watanabe replied, then glanced over Saitoh's desk, seeing the now smoking consequences of the man tossing smoldering cigarettes in a haphazardly fashion. "Oh, and Major?"

"What?" Saitoh snapped, wanting to get the hell of there.

"Your paperwork is on fire."

**To continue the action for Okita and Saitoh see the Gumi Reloaded story, A Welcome Wagon of One.**


End file.
